


Replacement

by Anonymous



Category: Hades (Video Game 2018)
Genre: Cunnilingus, Grooming, Hate Sex, Incest, M/M, Parent/Child Incest, Past Child Abuse, Past Rape/Non-con, Riding, Size Difference, Temporary Character Death, Trans Zagreus (Hades Video Game), Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-29
Updated: 2020-11-29
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:55:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27784843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: “Did you already forget that you raised me the way you did? Now that my mother’s back, you don’t want to use me anymore? I was just a replacement for her, is that it? ... A cockwarmer for a sad, twisted, perverted old man?”
Relationships: Hades/Zagreus (Hades Video Game)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 129
Collections: Anonymous





	Replacement

Zagreus hooks his foot under his father’s bident, kicking it away and out of his father’s reach. He knows that Hades can summon it to his hand just as he can with Varatha, but he’d like to believe his father understands the circumstance he's found himself in, and won't bother trying.

Now, the Prince of the Underworld is standing over his father, hands around the hilt his own bident as he keeps it impaled into his father’s chest, right where his heart would be, if he had one. From the look on his face, Zagreus knows he’s hanging on by no more than a few threads. He himself is panting, not much better off, but he’s been getting better at this. “ _ This _ ” being the repeated act of rage-induced patricide. 

“What, boy.” His father hisses, glaring, but not with the usual amount of detestment. He’s too exhausted, too defeated. “End this. You’ve won. I've wasted enough of my time.”

“No,” Zagreus responds, blandly. “I have, but I think I’m going to savor this, if you don’t mind.” 

“What, do you plan to torture me? Tch. Megaera has influenced your tastes more than I thought."

Zagreus rolls his mismatched eyes. “Something like that.” 

The prince bends at the knees, sliding his hands down Varatha’s hilt until he’s seated on his father’s abdomen, knees on either side of his torso. Well, more like on top of. Zagreus is too small to straddle his father that way; he supposes that his mortal blood was the reason he'd never grown to measure up to his father. Hades’ eyebrows raise and then furrow. “What is the meaning of this.” He demands, voice gruff.

“ _What is the meaning of this_ ,” Zagreus mocks, his voice dropping to imitate his father. “Did you already forget that you raised me the way you did? Now that my mother’s back, you don’t want to use me anymore? I was just a replacement for her, is that it?” He drives his bident deeper own into his chest, hands now at the base of it, and Hades would wince in pain, had he lacked the pride that made him maintain his stoicism. “A cockwarmer for a sad, twisted, perverted old man?”

Zagreus doesn’t expect it, when his father turns his face away shamefully, eyes gazing at the sparkling river off to their side. “I...admit...to having made mistakes, with your upbringing.” The prince lets his surprise show in his face.

Then his laughter fills the air, scandalized, incredulous, and angry. “ _ Now _ you admit it, now that you have someone else to satisfy your needs. Now that you can get your detestment towards me out by killing me repeatedly, instead of fucking me." The laughter fades out of Zagreus' voice, and he leans against Varatha's handle as he stares down coldly at his father. "Well, come to think, saying you were fucking me might be giving you too much credit. Most of those times, you were raping me, weren't you. Knowingly. Hurting me, because you liked it. You make me sick, you know that?” He ground his ass down against his father’s currently-soft cock, whose labored breathing hitches. “You can’t just take something like that back. You can't just pretend you didn't ruin me."

The prince stands up, pulls a bottle of nectar from his robes and sets it aside in the snow, for later. He removes his clothes instantly with a flash of red (a trick he’d learned from Thanatos), shivering at his sudden exposure to the brisk air. Then, he moves to straddle his father’s head, one knee on the ground, his opposite leg bent with his foot melting the snow. “Hey, get me wet for you.” He demands, knocking his father's helmet off to grab hold of his hair. When he hesitates, he grinds his cunt down against the lower-half of his face, scowling. “Come on, then.”

Hades sighs, and the breath is hot against Zagreus’ sex. He shudders, and you could hear the satisfied smile he wore in the hiss of his breath. He looks down at his father in anticipation, licking his lips. Too exhausted and too injured to fight his son (Zagreus wondered if Hades would fight back, if he had the strength. Before he began escaping, Hades would be the one to fight Zagreus into submission… now, the situation had reversed itself; Zagreus idly wondered if this was the Fates' twisted design?), Hades concedes, grabbing hold of Zagreus’ hips (The way that even just one of his God-sized hands could completely wrap around Zagreus' waist made Zagreus whine in pleasure), and pulls him closer, licking up into his pussy. Zagreus gasps, his grip on Hades’ hair tightening, beginning to grind himself against his tongue, his lips. 

“That’s it,” Zagreus sighs, hot breath visible through the cold night air. Occasionally he would throw his head back when his father slid his teeth against his clit, fucked into him with his larger-than-life tongue, or breathed hot air against his sex. 

Zagreus’ orgasm hits him suddenly, unexpectedly, and he spends himself over his father’s face, coating him with his wet. “ _ Fffuck you _ ,” Zagreus hisses, his grip on Hades’ hair painfully tight. He rides out the orgasm by grinding down, the feeling of Hades' beard rubbing against him pleasurable in its own odd way. He takes his time of catching his breath, simply sitting on his father's face as he collected himself. Eventually, he stood, with legs slightly shaking.

“Have you had quite enough?” His father says, voice thick, and Zagreus relishes the dejected tone in his voice. He was  _ humiliating _ his father, and that made him shudder with nearly as much satisfaction as the orgasm had.

Zagreus answers by unclipping Hades’ chiton and nearly ripping his leggings as he viciously pulls them down, letting his father’s cock fall against his stomach, already hard. Zagreus laughs, indignant. “You got hard from eating me out, you sick old man? I suppose I’m at least grateful you haven’t totally lost interest in me. In this.”

Zagreus squats over his father, both of his legs bent at the knee as he positions himself over his father’s cock. He places one hand on his father's thigh behind his back, balancing himself, and slides his dripping sex over the length of his shaft, sighing blissfully at the deliciously wet feeling. Hades himself was doing his best to remain unaffected, stoic as he ever was, and he looked away.

The Lord of the Dead's cock was huge, impossibly huge, but Zagreus had eons of practice by now, thanks to his father’s abuse. It was something Zagreus had always known; it was difficult to remember a time when his father  _ wasn't _ demanding him of this, outside of their most immediate history. Even with all of that practice, he needed something to loosen him up a bit; he grabbed the bottle of nectar and, in a hasty manner he would usually think wasteful, drank down most of it, the warmth settling in his belly and relaxing his muscles. For good measure, or maybe just to entice his father into looking at him again (because, maybe, that's what he really craved: his father's approval), he dumped the rest of it over his bare, muscled chest, letting it drip like syrup down his body until it reached his cunt. He moans softly; every inch of skin that the nectar touched felt hot and sensitive. He scoops the thick liquid into his hand and rubs it over his clit and into his pussy, keening at the sensation. Takes his satisfaction at the way his father's pupils are blown out as he pretends not to stare. 

"Get ready," Zagreus purrs, whether to his father, or himself, unimportant. He reaches down and holds the head of his father’s heavy cock in an upright position with one hand, the other holding the entrance to his cunt open with two fingers. He began slowly,  _ slowly _ sinking himself onto his Father's shaft, groaning softly as he does. Once the head is inside, stretching him wide, he pulls away his hand and places it on the handle of Varatha to balance himself. He hisses at the feeling, breathing in through gritted teeth in careful, measured breaths. Inch after incredibly thick inch, the nectar only adding to the addictive intensity, he forces himself down onto the cock. He gasps when he feels the tip hit his cervix, and knew he couldn’t take any more than that, not yet. When he’d been just a few centuries younger, he couldn’t take even half of his father’s cock, and now, he can take nearly all of it. It’s not something he should be prideful over, he thinks, but if there was anyone to blame for that, it was his father, not him.

“ _ Theeere _ we go,” Zagreus sighs, hips twitching as he adjusted himself on the intrusion. Oh, he hated his father, and this was a major reason why, but this? In this moment? The combined feeling of the nectar and of his father inside him only brought him a twisted sense of joy and worth. "Just like you taught me, right, Father?" He laughs, cruelly, breathlessly.

Zagreus takes a moment to look down at the disgraceful sight of his father, still needing time to the feeling of his too-big cock filling him up (time to adjust wasn't something Hades would typically offer him, but this was for Zagreus, not Hades). Hades eyes are glazed, wet with arousal and shame, and he looks pale, more pale than usual; Zagreus nearly had forgotten he'd brought his father to the brink of death before coming onto him. Zagreus grins, looking him eyes in mismatched eyes, as he raises his hips and then drops them only  _ slightly _ less slowly than he had before, and Hades groans, bringing one hand up to dig its nails into his son’s hip. " _ Boy _ ," He hisses. 

" _ Shut up _ ," The prince responds, his own voice breaking. "Don't speak. Don't say anything, at all, to me." Zagreus has half the mind to push his hand away and tell him that he's the one in charge here, but at the moment...it had been months, maybe even a year since he took his father’s cock, try as he might to get his attention. The last time was before he even began trying to escape, trying to find his mother, and it felt like it had been ages since she’d come home; since she evidently took her place under his father from him, if his father's lack of attention was anything to go off of. He'd allow his father to touch him, for now.

Not that Zagreus was resentful of Persephone for it, no, this anger was focused entirely on the God of the Dead himself. Raising Zagreus to crave his cock, a replacement for a love that he’d lost for no reason other than his own obtuseness, and then abandoning him after  _ he _ went through all the trouble to bring  _ his _ mother home. Before all of this, he would have liked to believe that his father leaving him well enough alone would have been a blessing, but no, it was much too late, he  _ needed _ this. He was dependent on the ache he felt when his father fucked into his cunt, too accustomed to it, too obsessed now to go back.

So this, this was just him getting his fix. 

Now that the stretch felt comfortable (comfortable enough, anyway; Zagreus was practically doll-sized compared to his father), he began riding in earnest. Sinking onto the girth of it and then pulling almost all the way off, moaning like a whore all the while. The feeling of it, the way it pulled at his insides, the way he could feel it bulging if he were to place his hand on his abdomen...no one else could do this for him, not like his father could. And he had definitely tried, tried to find someone to replace him with; there wasn't a single person in the House whose cock he hadn't taken within the past few months, chasing the sensation his father raised him to crave. Now, though,  _ now _ he was being satisfied, and it showed in his sweaty, sinful body, his labored breathing, his desperate voice. He was too loud, too enthusiastic, and words wouldn’t stop falling from his lips before he could even think to stop them. 

“You’re fucking _disgusting_ , father, you _like_ this,” He purrs, still balancing himself with Varatha’s hilt. “I bet you missed this as much as I did, huh? Bet you missed fucking _your son’s_ pussy, you sick old man, you pervert. I bet mother doesn’t take you as good as _I_ take you, like you raised me to, like you _trained_ me to, _Gods_ you make me sick, _haaah._..”

Hades hand was tight on Zagreus hip, undecided whether it should be trying to slow him up or pull him down harder, the other shamefully covering his face, his eyes; he couldn’t stop himself from looking at Zagreus. How could he? Zagreus was smiling like he loved this, mismatched eyes dark with lust and anger, focused on some faraway sight as he lost himself to the bliss of getting fucked. He was beautiful, in a light no father should bear witness to his son in. The God of the Dead couldn’t find it in himself to be angry at Zagreus in return, too aware of the fact that this was his own creation, his own flesh and blood that he’d used for his own selfish, filthy, unacceptable desires. How could he be angry at Zagreus, when he was the one who did this to him? No, instead he’d give Zagreus what he wanted, what he’d raised him to want. (Maybe, privately, he even felt a little bit of pride of how much of a slut his son had become, sick as it might be.)

The God pulled Zagreus’ hips down  _ hard,  _ one hand all that was needed to hold his waist steady, and Zagreus choked on the feeling of it, falling forward onto his knees with his hands now braced on Hades' upper abdomen. Hades had little strength after their battle, but he had enough to indulge his son, fill him deeper than he was managing on his own. Zagreus’ insults died in his throat, his vocal chords unable to accomplish little more than mewling and crying out for his father, the drive of his perfect, godly cock up into his cunt feeling  _ so _ ,  _ so, so  _ good, and then--

Zagreus came with a cry so loud he ought to have worried the Olympians could have heard it, legs shaking violently as his orgasm wracked his body. His cunt clenches down on his father in rhythmic pulses in time with his hammering heartbeat, slicking up his movements, and it took little else beyond a couple more thrusts before Hades was spilling his seed into his son's now sloppy cunt, suppressing his own groan. 

They lay there, gasping, panting for however long it took for the Prince to gather his senses. When he could manage, Zagreus stood abruptly, gasping at the gaping feeling he felt in absence of being filled-too-full, as well as his father’s spend quickly leaking in thick globs out of his pussy and down his thighs, his calves. He leaned against Varatha’s hilt, bent at the waist as he gathered himself. His father was staring up at him, breathing becoming slower and slower. Zagreus couldn't tell if he was coming down from his orgasm, or just dying. "Boy," He said, again, like there was anything at all Zagreus would care to hear him say in that moment. 

Zagreus answered him by lifting Varatha out of where it’d been impaled into his chest, and then plunging it hastily into his father’s neck. Golden ichor spluttered up his throat, and his red eyes lost their light ever so gradually. “See you at home, father,” Zagreus whispered, voice hoarse, wrecked. He pulled Varatha out before it could be swallowed up by the Styx, and then his father was gone.

Zagreus, satisfied in his own sick way, absentmindedly wandered out of the courtyard of the Temple and into the open air, laying himself still nude along the edge of the cliff. Staring at the sunrise he'd seen so often, now. Now, without the presence of his anger and his lust… he felt disgusted with himself, with his actions. With the fact that he knew he'd need this again, eventually. And, of course, with the idea of having to face his oblivious mother after this. And while he supposed he could get this over with, throw himself off the cliff, impale himself with Varatha, anything... he simply waited to die, patiently, full of shame, instead. Anything to stave off the endless pit of lust he'd surely feel reawakened inside of him as soon as his body reconstituted in the Styx.


End file.
